


Feverish

by cecilantro



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 07:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14689140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: Caleb's made himself sick on magical buildup. Nott is too hot. Jester is too cold.Molly is just right.i love your 'caleb runs hot, molly runs cold' headcannon
would be cool to see the inverse, like if caleb had a fever and molly was keeping him cool





	Feverish

Caleb’s been geared up to battle for three days, expecting a war that hasn’t come, and the energy he’s been channeling has pooled up and blew itself out in the form of a magical fever. Like any fever, he knows, it will take some time to pass, but it _will_ pass.   
Unfortunately, in the meantime, he’s a little caught up in bed under Nott’s careful watch, she feeds him and gives him water and he writhes with nightmare visions, eyes wide open.   
Not that anyone else is aware, presently. They just think that Caleb is feeling particularly reclusive.   
Mollymauk has never taken Caleb’s reclusive nature to heart, though, and he doesn’t bother to knock this day, just walks right in.   
“Nott!” He says, brightly, “Yasha and Beau are going to the baths, they wanted to know if you want to go with them.”   
Caleb appears to be… asleep.   
Nott is at the side of his bed, frowning, she looks between Caleb and Molly.   
“I… can’t.” She sounds almost regretful, “Caleb…”   
Caleb groans and turns over in bed, Molly notices for the first time the sheen of sweat on his forehead. He moves quickly across the room, to Nott’s side, his hands hover over Caleb. The wizard groans again, frowning, tensing, Nott hushes at him as she strokes his sweat-damp hair from his face.   
“What happened?”   
“He’s been like this for a day or so.” Nott smiles, weakly, “He built up too much magical power, it made him sick. The main problem is that I can keep him warm when he’s cold, but when he’s hot, I can’t cool him down.” she frowns down at Caleb, he huffs and begins to push the covers away.   
She settles her hand to his forehead and winces,   
“He’s burning up again.”   
“If you need something cold, why don’t you ask Jester?”   
“Jester?” Jester’s voice reaches them, her head pops around the corner and she looks concernedly between them, “Oh, is Caleb sick?”   
“Hi, Jester. Yes, he’s made himself ill on magic, Molly suggested that you might be able to cool him down.”   
Jester hums and studies him, arms folded, as she comes to the foot of his bed.   
“Hm. Nope! I’m no good!”   
“What? Why?” It’s Molly to protest, and she beams and holds her arm out.   
“Feel!” Molly sets his hand to her arm, it’s almost like touching metal in winter, she’s so cold.   
“Isn’t that what we want, though?” He asks her, and she shakes her head.   
“No, you want _cool_ , not _frozen_ ! Why don’t you try it, Molly? You’re cooler than he is, normally.”   
“Thank you, I try.” Molly plays on her wording, and she swats at him.   
“Don’t mess around whilst Caleb is ill! We’re going to the baths, now, though. Do you want to join us, Nott?”   
“I- I should, Caleb-”   
“Oh, Molly can do it! Come on, I promise we won’t push you in this time!” Jester offers her hand to Nott, who groans, indecisive. Molly pats her shoulder.   
“I’ll keep an eye on him. You’ve barely left the room in the past two days, Nott, take a break.”   
That’s all it takes, Nott moves to take Jester’s hand and calls a thanks back to Molly as she’s pulled out of the room.   
Molly sits on the edge of Caleb’s bed, completely void of blankets now, and picks up Nott’s job of stroking gently across Caleb’s forehead.   
Caleb pushes into the far cooler touch, he’s burning up something fierce, so much so that Molly worries for his fragile, human body. Humans aren’t like tieflings, past a certain temperature, they begin to break down.   
“Sorry, Caleb, I hope you don’t remember this.” Molly sighs as he stands away, the addled Caleb chasing his touch, whining at the loss of cool contact. Molly sheds his coat, takes off his boots, and clambers into the bed beside the wizard.   
Caleb cuddles in immediately, sighing as the cooler tiefling begins to seep away the uncomfortable edge of his fever. Molly smiles as Caleb does, kisses the top of his head and shuffles so that Caleb can flump over him, as much contact as possible, the blankets are piled to the side and easy to grab at if he should need it.   
Caleb is warm, once the edge has gone, he feels like solid sunlight on Molly’s chest. And even through the fever sweats, Caleb… smells nice. It’s not the first time that Molly’s noticed it, just the first time he’s acknowledged it. Caleb smells like ink and old parchment, books that have been read well and cared for, faint mildew but mostly love. Age, and love.   
It’s intoxicating, _Caleb_ is intoxicating, and Molly finds himself falling asleep before he knows it. He drops to sleep, Caleb on his chest, and relaxes himself into the void of serene nothingness.

 

He wakes when Nott opens the door.  
Caleb’s breathing is far less laboured, now, Molly hasn’t felt him writhe or shiver, and the sheen of sweat is gone. Nott comes up, quiet, around the edge of the bed and presses her hand to Caleb’s forehead. She startles,   
“Oh! He’s a lot cooler now!” Her exclamation is a whisper, but Caleb stirs anyway.   
“Hm… Nott?” He mumbles, blinking his eyes open. He spots her, first, eyes-wide and hair damp.   
“Hey, Caleb.” She smiles, almost weakly, and he blinks again, surprise this time,   
“Your hair is clean. You have- you have been here, when did you find…” and trails off as his sleepy brain takes in the cool, soft skin under his cheek.   
“M-Molly took, took over- you were _really hot_ , Caleb, it was the best I, we, we could do.” Nott stutters over the concern for Caleb’s opinion, and Molly draws a gentle circle onto Caleb’s back, his shirt now only damp with sweat, rather than drenched.   
“Hi.” he chips in helpfully, and Caleb gasps apologies as he peels himself from Molly’s chest and pushes back against the wall. Molly bites his lip against a pained exclamation, the skin-on-skin sticking unpleasantly and peeling even more so.   
“Darling, are you okay? You weren’t well, I was worried…” Molly sits up, Caleb scrambles upright himself a moment later, and puts a hand to Molly’s back  as the tiefling sways, suddenly woozy.   
“You have been too close to me, you have taken on some of the burden of magical excess, too.” Caleb explains, worried and guilty, and Molly laughs and waves,   
“Oh, it’s fine. I’ve had worse from hangovers, are _you_ okay? Thought you were a goner there, for a bit.”   
“ _Ja_ , I am good.” Caleb affirms, and Molly reaches around how own back to pat at Caleb’s hand.   
“So, me keeping you cool,” Molly stretches and climbs out of bed, his fingertips trailing Caleb’s as the wizard pulls back, “That helped with the source problem, too?”   
“ _Ja_ , being somewhat magical yourself, you absorb some of my power into you when we are, hm. Close.”   
Nott scrambles up onto the bed, into a quick hug with Caleb as Molly puts together his coat and boots.   
“I could have done that!” She protests, when she pulls away, “I could have helped!”   
“No, Nott, you are… too small, the magic would take over…” Caleb’s eyes fade distant, and Molly throws himself to the bed beside him.   
“Ah-ah, no, no zoning out on us, Caleb.” He protests, throwing an arm around the wizard’s shoulders. The world spins a second, but Molly is accustomed to alcohol, it’s nothing too jarring.   
“I am not zoning out.” Caleb jibes back, and, to everyone’s surprise, he leans into Molly, up against his shoulder.   
“Feeling okay, love?” Molly questions, squeezing, and Caleb hums softly,   
“I am very tired, if I’m honest. Tired, and hungry.”   
“Oh!” Nott starts, jumps off of the bed and makes for her satchel, “Beau and I picked some up on the way back, here,” she returns with what looks like a sandwich, and Caleb takes it gratefully, desperately, tears into it with mumbled thanks. Molly chuckles, he knows, Caleb doesn’t like crumbs in the bed.   
Seems he’s too hungry to care, though, and too hungry to drop many anyway, the whole thing disappears in under a minute. Molly leans over, tired himself, and kisses Caleb’s shoulder, gently.   
“Pace yourself, you’ll make yourself sick.” Molly’s voice is quiet, he rests his forehead on Caleb’s shoulder and closes his eyes, hovering between half-asleep and semi-conscious, if the two could be separated at all. Caleb freezes still after the kiss, doesn’t move below the neck, just turns slowly to look at Molly.   
“M- Mollymauk?”   
Nott looks between them and hisses,   
“Ah, I think… Jester… may need me.”   
And skitters away, pretends to leave, Caleb knows she’s there but she’s given him the space he needs.   
Molly sits up, sudden, as he realises his mistake.   
“Ah, fuck, I’m sorry.”   
And then he’s tumbling backwards into the pillow as Caleb tackles him, he’s sure that the wizard kisses his neck at one point but the touch is so light that he can’t truly tell. All he knows is that the world is spinning, Caleb is warm, and hovering above him.   
And that he smells like books, ink, and well-worn affection.   
He’s smiling, traces his fingertips down the line of Molly’s jaw, tucks his fingers into his hair, and Molly lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.   
“Are you going to kiss me, Caleb Widogast?” He pulls back at his own wit, lifts one hand and sets it to Caleb’s hip.   
“That depends.” Caleb teases back, dips lower.   
“On what?” Molly’s other hand pulls up, the other side of Caleb’s hip.   
“Do you want me to?” Caleb is so, shockingly, heart-stoppingly close. The sincerity in his tone is edging on dangerous, territory neither particularly likes to cross.   
Molly’s grip on Caleb’s hips tightens to bruising,   
“Gods, yes.”   
Caleb surges in, perhaps too enthusiastically, the first bump presses a little too hard and bursts Caleb’s lip on one of Molly’s sharp teeth, but he sticks to his guns, just shifts a little. The positioning is corrected, and it comes easily from there, until Caleb can no longer hold himself up on his forearms and drops instead to lie back on Molly’s chest, gasping for breath and holding his hand over his burst lip to stop it from dripping onto Molly’s white shirt. He pulls the wound into his mouth and wipes his hand on his own pants, sighing.   
“Long time coming, darling?” Molly asks, affectionate, tucking his fingers into the back of Caleb’s hair.   
“Too long.” Caleb agrees, pulling his fingers back to his lip so that he can yawn. “You can come back in, Nott, it’s okay.”   
Nott scampers in, over to her bed.   
“Are you okay, Caleb?” She asks him, spotting the blood, and he smiles.   
“I am perfect, Nott. Thank you.”   
“Okay, good. Good, I’m glad. Goodnight, Caleb. Night Molly.”   
“Goodnight.” Caleb smiles, closes his eyes against Molly’s chest. Nott extinguishes the lantern illuminating the room.   
“Night, Nott.” Molly replies into the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my fic, you should check out my [CR Art blog](https://zemniannights.tumblr.com), too!!


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